"Be careful?" I repeat. "Of Ryder?"
"Because Ryder's a good guy," Tessa says gently. "And he's been alone a long time. Since his dad died, he's been focused on hockey and firefighting and not much else."
"And after his last girlfriend," Patrice adds quietly.
I lean against the sink. "Dotty mentioned it’s been years since he looked at anyone. But she didn't tell me the whole story."
Tessa and Patrice exchange a look.
"There was this girl, we don’t mention her name. They were together for three years," Tessa says. "College sweethearts, that whole thing. She moved to Seattle for a job opportunity, wanted him to come with her."
"But he couldn't leave," Patrice continues. "Not with the team needing him, the fire station, his mom still grieving. He chose Ashwood Falls. She chose Seattle."
"Long distance lasted about six months before she ended it," Tessa says. "Told him she needed someone who could put her first. That she was tired of coming second to hockey and the fire department."
My stomach twists. "That's awful."
"It gutted him," Patrice says. "So if you're not serious about this?—"
"I'm serious," I interrupt, then pause. "I mean, we're serious about... giving it a shot. Seeing where things go."
Another look between them.
"Okay," Patrice says slowly. "Just... he's one of the good ones. Don't break him."
They leave me in the bathroom, staring at my reflection. Don't break him. Like I have that power. Like this arrangement is anything more than mutually beneficial PR.
When I return to the booth, Jax is in the middle of a story about Ryder's first game, and everyone's laughing. Ryder catches my eye across the table and smiles, and that flutter happens again, low in my stomach.
Later, when the karaoke has devolved into terrible team renditions of '80s power ballads, Jax slides into the seat next to me.
"Having fun?" he asks.
"Surprisingly, yes."
"Good." He's quiet for a moment, watching Ryder argue with Connor about song choices. "Can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
"Ryder likes you. Like, really likes you."
My stomach flips. "Jax?—"
"I've known him since we were kids. He doesn't do casual." He turns to face me, expression serious. "So whatever this is between you two, just... be honest with him. And with yourself."
Before I can respond, heat crawls up my neck. Why does everyone assume I'm the one who's going to do the hurting? I'm the one who got dumped on a livestream three months ago. I'm the one rebuilding from public humiliation. What about him hurting me?
But I don't say any of that. Just nod like I understand.
Ryder returns to the table, sliding into the seat across from me. "What are you two conspiring about?"
"Nothing," Jax says innocently. "Just telling Piper about the time you cried during 'The Notebook.'"
"I did not cry. I had allergies."
"Sure you did, buddy." Jax makes exaggerated sniffling noises and wipes at imaginary tears.
The night winds down around eleven, and Ryder drives me home through streets that are finally starting to feel familiar. When we pull up to my cabin, neither of us moves to get out.
